Twisted Games
by AquaMaxis
Summary: A fine line runs between good and evil...When Voldemort's armies conquer, it's up to Harry and co. to save the world. A hard feat to do, considering you can trust no one. Expect affairs, action, and a ton of Draco/Hermione! I think it's good. r/r
1. Golden Antipathy

  
A/N: Okay kiddies...it's time for some super-action and dramatic romance. This is the war...the war that will determine the fate of the wizarding world. It's pure good against pure evil...or maybe not. Expect twists, affairs, and of course...super-sexy Draco...all rolled into one huge action story. And this is more than just wandwork, this is some serious ass-kicking action. Enjoy!  
  
Soundtrack: To enhance this story, I recommend listening to Staind's Outside (light version) until the first asterisks, and for the second part, Moby and Gwen Stefani's Southside.  
  
* * *  
  


**Twisted Games **  
by: AquaMaxis  
(aka Super-punk)  
Chapter One: Golden antipathy   
  


  
  
It was night. Dead night. The moon was reduced to a single sliver of light, giving enough only to see a few feet ahead of you. Noises were extinguished by the eerie silence that was running through the halls. Even Filch had retired for the night.  
  
But two hadn't.  
  
"Draco..." Hermione whispered. Her heart skipped a beat. He was silhouetted against tapestries drained black in the darkness.  
  
"They did it to me, Hermione. Look." He extended an arm. It was hard to make out in the purity of the night, but she could see...a skull and a snake, entwined within another. The mark was red and swollen from recent burning.  
  
Hermione let out a gasp that echoed through the halls, awaking a few sleeping jesters from a large courtroom painting.  
  
"It's over. It's all over. Tomorrow I will be gone. We will be enemies." A dull, tired voice came from Draco. "Again."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I will never lose sight of you. We took this long to find each other..."  
  
"And it was pointless."  
  
Tears stung Hermione's fiery eyes. "No. I will not let them get to you."  
  
He placed a hand on her cheek. "Sweet Hermione. The only one who would take a chance at me...the only one who loves me." He stared into her eyes, gathering her fear and anxiety. "This is the last time we will see each other."  
  
She could say nothing. This was her Draco, the one she dug out of the hole, only to find him crawling back in...crawling from daylight into the revolting underworld once more.  
  
"I am warning you of this. Tomorrow there will be an outrage. Here. I will be gone along with many of the other Slytherins."  
  
"No!" Hermione choked, not caring if anyone heard them.  
  
He put his other hand to her mouth. "Listen! I am trying to save your life!"  
  
She took his hand off her mouth. "The only saving that will be happening is me and you." Her brown eyes, red with anger and frustration, burned into his steely gray pair. Draco narrowed his.  
  
"There is going to be a war. A real war. And we're on opposite sides." A smile crept on Hermione's flushed face. A flint of evil was caught in her mysterious aura.  
  
"Not if I can help it."  
  
* * *   
  
"Today is going to be great!" Ron yelled enthusiastically into his plate of sausage.  
  
Harry looked at him curiously. "Why?" His tone was flat and rather forced. Ron didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Today is the first quidditch game of the season!" Ron said, waving his hands. "You haven't forgotten, have you?"  
  
"Of course not!" Harry said with a bit more spirit. Actually, he had indeed forgotten. Another scar dream had visited his bed last night, pouring sweat over his body and branding his forehead. Ron seemed delirious, however. This was his first game as the new Keeper.  
  
Fred and George, the new co-captains, had insisted on the team waking at dawn. The fairly young team was a little less than fresh and Harry doubted that their season would be anything as spectacular as the previous three.  
  
"It's against Ravenclaw, it shouldn't be that bad. You should watch out for Cho though, I bet she's improved a lot. And with Seamus and that other girl as the new chasers..." Ron droned on. Harry's mind wandered back to the dream. He barley noticed he was eating jam straight from the jar until Ron whacked him on the head.  
  
"Wake up, Harry!"  
  
The next quarter hour was made fairly pleasant by Fred and George's humorous pep-talk. Most of the Slytherin's must have decided today was the perfect sleep-in day, as only a handful were eating. A quick glance to the ceiling told Harry that in fact it was a great Saturday to bury yourself under pillows. As the rest of the school filed in sleepily, Harry couldn't help but notice how very subdued the Slytherin table was.   
  
"Hey...where's Hermione?" Harry asked Ron as they made their way to the Quidditch field. The day was gray with hints of rain here and there. In fact, there were pitch black storm clouds rolling in the south. They were a few hundred miles away though, nothing to worry about...yet.  
  
"Dunno. Probably in the library," Ron joked, but even he had a smudge of uncertainness in his voice. "She usually never misses games though..."  
  
Harry glanced around. The seats were all being filled, but Hermione was seen nowhere. Dean had made another spectacular drawing that was plastered against the walls of the stadium. This one had all of the new Gryffindor players zooming around on it, and the detailed scorebox in the corner was torturing Ravenclaw with a score of 500 to zero.  
  
"I'm sure she'll get here though..." Ron said. A grin crawled on Harry's face. Ron had gotten more worked up over Hermione than himself. He knew all too well that Ron had a somewhat obvious crush on her.  
  
"Don't worry about it. I'm sure she can't wait to see you play." Ron flushed the same color as his hair. _Now he 'ought to play well,_ Harry thought mischievously. Nothing like playing matchmaker to lift your spirits.   
  
"Okay you nutters," George said in the thick of the huddle, "We've got a game to win. Now we've got plenty of extras just waiting to come in, ("I'll say," muttered Fred [George had allowed nearly every person who tried out on the team]) so if you get tired, just give me the signal!"  
  
The huddle broke and Harry went onto the field, his Firebolt tucked dearly under his arm. He caught Cho's eye and she winked at him. Harry blushed. Ron gave him the thumb's up signal and Madame Hooch sounded her whistle.  
  
Harry soared. The gigantic group of Gryffindor substitutes were cheering beneath him, representing a huge firecracker of scarlet and gold.   
  
There was no mistaking the nervousness of the new players on the Gryffindor team. While Ron was putting forth an excellent effort, Seamus and the rest looked almost ready to fall off their broomsticks. Fred and George shouted encouragingly at the players, but only one really stood out.  
  
Harry had only talked to her briefly, but her talent as Chaser was very apparent. Her name was Natalie McDonald and she was a second year. Being very tiny and thin, she could easily dart away from Bludgers and also had nice coordination. Harry was so happily surprised at her talent that a Bludger nearly knocked him off his Firebolt.  
  
His attention refocused on the game. Cho was circling beneath him. He knew that she could beat him from her position, so Harry would have to keep a very accurate watch over the field.  
  
"Gryffindor leads, 40 to 20," Lee Jordan yelled gladly. He has reassumed his position of announcer (to all of the Gryffindor's delight) after a few wild rumors rampaged that McGonagall had forbidden him after a few _minor_ mishaps.  
  
The roar of the crowd was mixed with a boom of thunder. Harry whizzed along the bridges of the place, when he spotted it...  
  
He swerved directly right, straight to the location where the Gryffindor's were waiting to go in...a few screamed and ducked to the ground.  
  
Quickly he pulled up. Stupid third year was waving a minuscule golden flag around like an airhead. Cho seemed unharmed by this as she eyed Harry suspiciously.  
  
Feeling a hot surge of anger, Harry bolted up. He watched...for 15 minutes...20...30....  
  
Where was the Snitch? A glimpse of it had not even been seen. "And Ravenclaw ties, 130-130," Lee announced boredly. "We might be here awhile, folks...wait a minute!"  
  
Cho was racing toward the west end of the field. Harry was a good ten yards away when he noticed. Adrenaline higher than a skyscraper brewed within him, his insides churning and a sudden wash of energy overtaking him. He could hardly hear Lee screaming at him to hurry up as he gathered more and more speed.  
  
He put the outstanding magic of the Firebolt to use. The snitch was barely visible to him and he was approaching Cho so quickly...too quickly. She was behind him, almost as if she had stopped. But Harry didn't care. Before the snitch ducked out of sight he closed his fingers around it and rammed into the wall.  
  
A sudden uproar from the crowd rushed upon Harry. He had slid to the ground, but nothing hurt except his right elbow, but even the pain was sparse. Rain stared to pour over him. Harry turned to grin at the crowd, holding up the snitch in his hand.  
  
Except they were all running the other way.   
**  
  
  
**A/N2: Thanks for getting this far. It would really build my confidence if reviews were given, even flames. I really do want to know how you feel about this story so far...thanks  
  
-Kel   
**  
**P.S. The rating will probably reach R if I continue.**  
  
**


	2. A Silver Opportunity

Soundtrack: Let's see...Pearljam's Jeremey...I'm an alterna-chic, so don't blame me! :)  


  
  
**Twisted Games**  
By: Aquamaxis  
(aka Superpunk)  
Chapter Two-A Silver Opportunity  


  
  
Hermione stared at the room from behind silver bars. Redness blinded her eyes. The room was a complete circle, ground and all. She was locked within a frame of silver and gold bars...caged. The cage was located directly in the center of the room. She felt like a centerpiece.  
  
"I can't believe this worked."  
  
Draco arose from his sitting place below her. "Why wouldn't it?" He gripped two steel bars and faced her. The moment was very symbolic.  
  
"Because someone has got to realize that this plan is so stupid. You abducting me. Ha."  
  
He narrowed his eyes. "While you were knocked out I compromised a little. Be glad you're not dead right now." Draco's grip loosened on the bars and he backed away. "I managed to hatch an idea."  
  
"And what would that be?" Hermione asked stiffly.  
  
He shrugged. "I said that Potter was madly in love with you and he would somehow figure out where the hell you were. Or something like that."  
  
Hermione clutched her heart. "You _didn't_," she gasped. The color had drained out of her cheeks, leaving them a pearlescent white. "Harry _will_ find this place and he'll be killed! Voldemort knows how capable he is!"  
  
"Relax. We're plotted somewhere in Scotland. We're nowhere near Hogwarts."  
  
"Idiot!" Hermione screeched. "Hogwarts _is_ in Scotland!"  
  
Draco shifted around uncomfortably. "I wondered why dad said this the best place for camp..." He saw the outraged look fixed on Hermione's face. "Don't worry!"  
  
"How can I not worry? Harry is my best friend!"  
  
Draco spent the next half hour coaxing Hermione to calm down. Finally, he gave up and walked outside of the tent, leaving her screaming by herself.  
  
It was like tumbling into a world of green and gray. Small circles of tents were aligned neatly into rows. Each tent was wearing the Dark Mark in it's center. A few robed figures were walking about silently. Draco ducked through them and found himself feeling very cold.  
  
Dementors. His insides churned and he stepped away from the place. He walked for a bit, taking particular interest in a dozen giants wrestling. This was a place of evil. Evil creatures, evil people...Draco shook his head.  
  
"Draco, there you are!"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Draco turned around. "What do you want?" he demanded empathetically.  
  
Lucius raised his eyebrows. "I wanted to show you something."  
  
A spark of curiosity jumped at him. Trying hard not to show his feelings Draco asked, "What?" as innocently as possible.  
  
"You'll have to come if you must know," Lucius said smoothly.   
  
"Fine!" Draco said stubbornly. "I'll go! You don't have to beg me or anything!" Draco smiled, satisfied with his raw acting talent.  
  
Lucius didn't buy it. "Follow."  
  
Draco flicked him off once his back was turned. Lucius led him through a maze of Dark Wizards and Witches, becoming particularly interested in a group of veela entertaining a few.  
  
"I didn't know veela were Dark Creatures."  
  
"They aren't," Lucius replied smartly. "They are here for the Inner Circle."  
  
_Of course_, Draco though. _Your stupid Inner Circle, with your stupid privileges. Inner Circle this, Inner Circle that. Who cares.  
  
_Draco had never had any special intention on becoming a Dark Wizard. Lucius had used so many curses on him that it had been beaten into his mind that good was bad and bad was good. Luckily Hermione rescued him...  
  
The pandemonium ended when Draco saw what lay ahead of him.  
  
Three beautiful miniature dragons...one blue, one red, one green. They were roughly the size of horses and completely identical. All had two horns sticking out of the top of a jagged heart shaped face. Tails were long and thin. The most interesting feature, however, were the beautiful wings. They shone like silver and were laced with spiky ridges. Draco loved them all.  
  
"They're yours. You'll be needing them soon."  
  
"I...I don't know what to say..."  
  
"Thank you would be appropriate."  
  
Draco plastered on a very forced smile. "Thanks," he said in monotone.  
  
"Don't thank me. They're from the Dark Lord."  
  
Draco suddenly stopped smiling. "Why?"  
  
"He seems to think that you came up with a brilliant plan of some sort. This is a reward. He said it suited your name and personality." Lucius eyed his son suspiciously.   
  
"Well then tell him I said thanks," Draco said nervously, dreading the next thing his father was going to say.  
  
"You can tell him thanks yourself. You're meeting him tonight."  
  
* * *  
  
_Symbolism...the snitch rolled through the mass of Harry's hands, suddenly frozen and pointless. It balanced a trifle of the very tips of his fingers before plunging down towards the earth, where it hit the cold, hard ground and shattered into a million pieces._  
  
The sky was overflowing with an army of green blurs. Screams filled the air. Harry stared, awed in wonder and fear.   
  
A green blur slowed down and Harry discovered that it was in fact a wizard sitting atop a Hippogriph. The beast looked nothing like Buckbeak, in fact, it was so vicious and revolting that it didn't even resemble the same species. The wizard was cloaked in a shimmering green tunic and was clutching some sort of wand with what looked like a spiked ball hanging from a chain at the end.  
  
Harry watched in horror as the wizard blew apart a bench some had been sitting on. They scattered, wailing terrible cries of pity and rampage. Apparently they, like Harry, had been too scared to move. The wizard laughed and swung the great weapon over his head.   
  
He brought the ball down upon a student and a horrible crushing sound was unearthed from him...and a crumpled body lay dead at the warrior's feet. With a flick of his wrist the ball and chain wiped back into the warrior's wand. Harry had never seen anything like it.  
  
It was one of those moments when you black out, but not really. Total instincts take over your body and you feel great amounts of emotion...in Harry's case, rage.  
  
He hoped on his broomstick and grabbed his wand out of his pocket. He kicked into the air and dodged a few other quidditch players scampering about. Harry seized the wand in the warriors hand. He now had two wands...  
  
Harry blasted on speed but the warrior caught the tip of Harry's broomstick. He pulled it backwards with amazing strength and clamped it under his foot. Harry rolled off and did what any sensible person would do...he pointed out both of the wands.  
  
"No!" the warrior roared. He fixed his hands around Harry's thin neck and squeezed. Harry felt all of the air go out of him. Quickly he kicked the warrior in the stomach with both feet and flipped over backwards and landed painfully on his back. The warrior doubled over.  
  
Swiftly Harry hopped to his feet. He shoved his own wand into his pocket and foolishly waved the other one around in the air. It emitted a number of great sparks which flew into the air and exploded like firecrackers. Harry waved it again and it mutated into a large, curved sword.  
  
Harry practiced swinging it around. It was rather heavy. He had almost forgotten about the warrior when he clutched the hems of Harry's robes, causing him to fall to his feet. Harry concealed the sword under the weight of himself and when the warrior flipped him over demanding the wand, Harry thrust the sword right into his heart.   
  
Surprised at his own wit, Harry rolled away from the yelping warrior. He balanced himself and cried a war cry...and decapitated a few more.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco slipped back into the Red Room. Hermione was asleep in her cage, all hunched together in the few square feet of space it gave her. They had taken her wand and everything in her pockets.   
  
Silently as possible, Draco sneaked up to Hermione. A stand of hair was lying across her face. He gently tucked it behind her ear and felt the softness of her skin. Here she was, imprisoned by her own will. It dawned on Draco that she was very weak without her wand. Hermione was petite and thin and without her wand she was reduced to a little girl.  
  
Draco edged his arm out of the cage. It pained him to see her like this. He knew they would not feed her, and they would not show any feeling towards her besides hate. It was up to him to take care of her.  
  
He sighed and turned away.  
  
"Draco."  
  
"Yes father," Draco responded automatically. "I am coming."  
  
The walk towards the center of the camp seemed very short. Draco was petrified with fear. He had always been very afraid of Voldemort, ever since he saw his mother cleaning the deep slashes in the back of his father's back when he was five. When Draco had innocently asked where the cuts had come from, his mother wept as she told him Lucius had fallen in a brumble bush. The wounds were in fact a reoccurring curse that Lucius would hold until the day he died.   
  
"Go in," Lucius said defiantly. "He only wished to see you."  
  
Draco looked up at the tent. It has marble steps leading up to it's entrance flap, which looked rather ridiculous, but Draco figured nothing short of a palace would be concealed inside. Lucius gave Draco a little shove and he started up the steps.  
  
Each step he took seemed to be louder than the previous. Every eye passing by was locked on this 15 year old boy, slowing climbing his way to the Dark Lord's lair. He almost felt himself trip with fright.  
  
Hands shaking, Draco pushed open the threshold to the tent. He stepped inside and was transported into a galaxy of black and white checked floor and a great golden throne. The room was gigantic and square and very dark.  
  
Draco cautiously approached the throne. He would make out a pale, spidery hand tapping on the arm of the chair. He faint noises it made echoed through the empty room.  
  
"I have been waiting for you, Draco."  
  
Draco bit his lip. He wished he were anywhere but here now. Anywhere.  
  
"Come closer."  
  
He inched forward, tightening every muscle in his body. He swallowed very hardly and spoke, "What do you wish of me?"  
  
Voldemort arose, his face finally visible. It penetrated the darkness of the room. His skin was so colorless and pale it almost glowed brighter than his red eyes. He laughed.  
  
"I have a gift of sensing emotion, boy. And you are very afraid. Why."  
  
It wasn't a question. Draco gulped again. "I'm not afraid."  
  
"Do not lie to yourself or me, boy," Voldemort said in his dark voice. "I can feel your emotion and you are scared." He circled around Draco, lightly tracing a finger around his shoulders.  
  
"Yet you are strong. You have never realized all of the power that you can possess."  
  
Draco didn't feel very powerful. "Well now I do. Thanks for the dragons, bye!" He turned and started to walk away when a stabbing pain hit him.  
  
He screamed in agony as every bone in his body crunched, every muscle was reduced to shreds...every cell was furious with pain. In too much pain to recognize the Crucatius Curse, Draco begged himself to die.   
  
The pain was wiped away with the flick of Voldemort's wand. Draco laid panting on the floor, a cold sweat blanketing his body. Voldemort laughed.  
  
"You will learn to obey me, boy."  
  
Draco glared at the checkerboard ground, hoping it would burst apart and Voldemort would die.   
  
"Get up."  
  
Draco struggled to his feet. The effects from the simple word "Crucio" had altered his balance temporarily. "What do you want?" he demanded rudely.  
  
"Look."  
  
A great glass orb was thrust at Draco's feet. Looking into it, he saw himself: the same strong body, gleaming blonde hair, penetrating gray eyes accompanied by a handsome face. He was dressed in a silver medival-looking tunic with a great flowing cape and a sword descending from his black leather belt to matching dragonhide boots. He was standing in front of an army of monsters, with his three miniature dragons beside him.  
  
"So what?" Draco said.   
  
"You are looking into your future, and I would dare not doubt it."  
  
"What, I'm a commander?"   
  
"Absolutely."  
  
Draco's jaw dropped. "Why? I haven't done anything! I've never even touched a sword! I don't know how to command an army!"  
  
Voldemort's slit-like mouth formulated into a sinister smile. "You would be surprised at your destiny." The glass orb, roughly the size of a snitch, levitated into the air and Draco snatched it and shoved it in his pocket, only to see that he wasn't in his regular black robes anymore, he was ensambeled in an exact duplicate of the image in the crystal ball.  
  
"Your army is waiting."  
  
Draco nervously felt the hinge of his sword. It was sturdy and practically socketed itself into Draco's hand. He pulled it out, tempted to clash it right through Voldemort's stupid head.   
  
But Voldemort was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
There were bodies sprawled out everywhere. At least twenty were dead, pools of blood exhausted around their victims. There was only seven shimmering green tunics visible from the deep mounds of debris. Harry had killed each one of them.  
  
Silently he fell to his knees and started sobbing. This did not just happen. This did not just happen. He felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Ron...thank god you're okay..." Harry forced himself up. "Where is Hermione?"  
  
"I don't know. They can't find her. Everyone who could rampaged back into Hogwarts, into Dumbledore's office. Look." Ron waved a hand at the ruins that was Hogwarts. Only a spiral staircase leading to Dumbledore's domain was preserved. Many were gathered there, sitting on Dumbledore's desk, weeping, crying, sobbing...  
  
"Harry..."  
  
Harry looked at his best friend, a stream of blood trickling down his freckled face. "Yeah?"  
  
Ron was staring at him very oddly. "When did you learn to use a sword?"  
  
"Never. Why?"  
  
Ron shifted his weight around uncomfortably. "Well...I think it was you that drove away most of those Death Eaters. You took on three at the same time and killed them all. Most of us were watching from the building."  
  
"What?" Harry croaked. "Where was Dumbledore?"  
  
Ron didn't say anything.   
  
"Ron? Where was he? Answer me!" Harry yelled, but he knew what Ron was not going to tell him. He knew Dumbledore was gone.  
  
  
  
A/N: Well, did you like it? I worked very hard on this, but I don't know if I will continue if I don't get more reviews. The whole point of fanfiction.net is to get feedback...so please do review, constructive flames are okay too. :)  
  
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